


to find the perfect blue (you must stumble and fall)

by idkmandestiel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Artist!Harry, Bakery, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Louis is a Tease, Louis is a rich boy, M/M, Original Character(s), YES IT IS REFERENCING TO HIS TATTOO, and baking, bc gross, cake is yummy, eleanor references but shes not actually in it, harry likes art, he also has a dirty mouth, louis is himself basically, niall is basically niall, roger is a little fuckboy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkmandestiel/pseuds/idkmandestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry works in a bakery decorating pretty cakes with a passion for art and finding the perfect blue. Louis owns the Doncaster Rovers and plays football professionally. Louis's aunt own the bakery that Harry works at. Shit happens and people fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to find the perfect blue (you must stumble and fall)

**Author's Note:**

> youre all welcome ok

HARRY POV:

The bell rang above my head as I opened the door to the bakery, and the warm breeze and sweet smell of sugar graced my senses. No, actually, it was a shitload of sugar and quite frankly I wanted to barf. 

It's not that I don't like working at the bakery- Ms. Collins is lovely and the pay is great- it is just... if I had the choice to work in a place surrounded by a certain thing, I'm not exactly sure it would be flour and sugar. But, hey, once again- pay's great. 

"Styles, get your bloody arse in here," fuck. I knew I did something wrong, because the kitchen was a mess and Ms. Collins were practically giving me the evil eye as I walked into the kitchen. "Where the ever-loving hell were you last night?"

"Erm," I paused. Where was I supposed to be? 

"You had a bloody shift!" Ms. Collins shrieked as if she read my mind, and I flinched. "We have a big order today, you were supposed to come in and help last night so it would be ready for the next day- now- and nothing?"

"Shit," I ran my hands through my hair. "I'm sorry I completely forgot- yesterday was rough and mum came home late-"

"You could've at least called in earlier-"

"I know, I'm so-"

"Sorry isn't going to cut it Harry, we'll talk after. We've got an hour or so to finish what would take about seven hours normally," Ms. Collins shoved an apron in my direction and led me to the back. "You better work your arse off or this job will be another's." The inner room was brightly lit with a large wooden table sat in the center, covered with frosting, fondant and dozens of pipes and other cake decorating shit.

The bakery normally didn't do large and fancy cakes, but Ms. Collins claimed that the person who ordered this cake was of utmost significance, and then smack my shoulder with a wooden spoon when I said "if it isn't for the fucking queen then I may actually barf at this person's shitload of requests." I then learned that it wasn't the queen- and that spoons can leave bruises. 

The reason Ms. Collins actually said yes to the order is because she knew I would be able to complete the task. When I started working here, I was fifteen and working the cash register at all times. The store wasn't as big and popular as it is now, so often times there was no one in the store and I was left on my own to do whatever I pleased, so I doodled. Doodled on my hands and on old documents and paper bags, and when I was caught, Ms. Collins sat me in the back and put a pipe filled with frosting in my hand and told me to decorate the cookies for the upcoming holidays. After holidays, she gave me an apron and told me to decorate the birthday cake for display. After that, in my three and a half years of working here, anything that needed decoration and details was given to me- often times not by choice.

This cake was different than anything I've done before. It had seven tiers, each one with specifications of details, colours and texture. The bottom tier- usually what was never eaten from- had a quilted pattern with edible pearls at every end. The hardest thing, was getting the colour right. It had to be a light blue, but it was unlike a blue I've ever seen before. When I went home after creating this blue a few nights ago, I sat on the floor with my paint and attempted to create this blue again. It never worked. 

The other tiers were alright, but the hardest one was the top. Like Ms. Collins said, it would take me seven hours to do normally, but I only had one. I see that she tried to imitate my work, but it wasn't quite right. I took a pipe and fixed up her mistakes. My hand was lightly squeezing the bag and my face was an inch away from the cake when I heard footsteps behind me.

"Whoever you are- you come near me and ruin this fucking cake, it'll be the end of your sad arse."

"Top of the mornin' to you, too, mate!" Niall cackled, and I could swear my eyes have never seen the back of my head until now when I rolled my eyes.

"Heard Ms. Collins gave you shite before, what'd ya do this time?" 

"Your mum, Niall," I grumbled, and he cackled again. "Now fuck off, I have to finish this cake."

"Oi, you disrespected me mum, I'm stayin' to bother you, mate," Niall walked in the room and grabbed a stool and sat next to me.

"Fine, but get an apron an' hand me shit I need, this cake needs to be done within the hour," I said, and Niall grunted in agreement. "Pass the pipe to me- the one with the yellow on it."

"Here ya go, mate. Who is the cake for anyway?" Niall asked.

"No idea, I reckoned it to be for the Queen but the boss whacked me with a spoon when I said that," Niall chuckled, "so I would say it's not the Queen's."

"Swear on m' mum, whoever's cake this is must own a shitload of fucking money," Niall retorted.

"Now look who's disrespecting your mum."

"Fuck off."

The process got more complex as the decorating went on, and I had Niall remake some colours and refill pipes. The clock was ticking- literally, Ms. Collins put a timer on- and I had no time to really process anything going on.

"Harry, you've got t' hurry up, mate." I grabbed the pipe from his hand and shot him a dirty look.

"No fucking shit Sherlock," I retorted, and began cleaning up the other tiers of the cake as Niall finished piping the top tier's edges. "You try doing this shit with Collins on top of you, tell me how it works out for you, mate." Niall was humming some dumb-ass popular song as he piped the edges, and I could quite literally feel the sweat dripping down my back.

"Harry?" Ms. Collins voice came from outside the room. "You've got two minutes, and the delivery people will be here to pick it up."

There were so many things I wanted to do, but I couldn't. The details were set in, and everything that was requested was done. But, it was missing something and I couldn't figure it out. I couldn't make any last minute changes to the cake, and it was done... just not the way I wanted it. 

"Har, they're here," Niall got up from his stool and wiped his hands on his pants. "C'mon, we've gotta let them in so they could take the bloody thing!"

"Niall, look at it. Something is off."

"Too late now, mate, they gott' take it," Niall grabbed my shoulder and lightly pulled me back. "It looks amazing Harry, I promise ya." 

I got up with Niall's hand on my shoulder and followed him out the door as two men walked in to take the cake. 

"It's like watchin' your baby go, innit?" Niall asked from over my shoulder.

"Niall, its a fucking cake," I retorted, and I took my apron off and went off to the front of the bakery. There were a few people in line that Roger, the guy who typically works the cashier, was taking care of.

"Roger, I need you to go out back and help the lads bring the cake out," Ms. Collins said from behind me, and I turned around. "Harry, work the register."

"Why can't I go and help out back? It's my damn cake," I complained as Roger nodded and left the store. "I don't want to work the front, Ms. Collins."

"Next time come to your proper shift and then we'll talk, laddie," she ruffled my hair and shooed me off to the front. All the customers were gone and taken care of, and I stood in front of the register like a complete utter fool.

"Fuck it," I grabbed a sharpie and leaned over the counter and began drawing on my arm. With the way I was angled, I had to draw upside down. I began with a thin sharpie, and drew what I wanted to be a stem. The petals, drooping slightly, centered the rose as if anyone looking at it, was looking at it from the top. With a thicker sharpie, I outlined the base of the stem and made a smaller stem with two leaves hanging off it.

"Not bad."

I looked up and saw two blue eyes staring down at me. I put the pen down and straightened myself. "I'm sorry, sir. Can I help you with anything?"

"They say that drawing on yourself with pen isn't the best thing for your skin, is it?" the man asked rhetorically. I nodded and put the cap on the pen and shoved it in the drawer under the counter. 

"Is there anything particular you want, sir?" I asked, monotonously. "With spring on the way, we have-"

"I hear there are pens that you can use specifically for your skin, although your method works, as well," he said, ignoring my question. "You're talented, though." He smiled lightly.

"Are you mocking me?"

"No."

"Then what the fuck do you want, you prick," I asked, and I grabbed the handle for the drawer and yanked it and took my pen out. "If you don't need anything, then you can leave." I uncapped the pen and returned to my original position.

A few moments passed with undeniable silence. "That's no way to talk to your customer, is it?"

"You haven't purchased anything, have you?" I retorted sarcastically. "I am the cashier, the person who you give the money to, and I have yet to receive any cash from you." I slammed the pen down. "You have not expressed any interest in purchasing anything, and you comment on my personal business." I capped the pen again, in anger. "So, according to me, you're not a customer, you're just-"

"A prick?" he interrupted with a smirk. "Well, yes, I see what you're saying," he looks down at my name tag, "Harry."

"Oh!" I heard Ms. Collins running from the back, "You've met Harry, I see!" she exclaimed. She put her hand on my shoulder, "Harry is the one who designed the cake for you and your company." 

Oh shit.

"Harry, this is my nephew, Louis Tomlinson, owner of the Doncaster Rovers and professional football player," Ms. Collins said with a smile on her face. He stuck his hand out with a smile, and I hesitated. What if this fucker chopped my hand off? What if he-

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry. The cake is beautiful," Louis said as he put his hand down. "You're talented," he said, and I looked up and saw his smug smile. 

"Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson," I said, and Ms. Collins ran off with a shriek after something crashed in the back of the kitchen. I turned back to see Louis Tomlinson with the most smug smile I've yet seen on a human being. "Oh, fuck you."

"Oh, you would want to, wouldn't you?" Louis replied, and he grabbed a stool from the farther end of the counter where the customers normally sat. I could feel my face turning red at his words. Louis sat the stool directly in front of me across the counter. 

"Our customers won't be able to pay if you sit there," I said.

"I'm your customer, am I not?" Louis asked rhetorically. "I think we've established that, haven't we?"

"You ask an awful lot of questions."

"I've been told," Louis remarked. He now sat right in front of me, with my sharpie in his hand. "I suppose this is when you apologize for your rude behavior."

"You've 'supposed' wrong, Mr. Tomlinson," I retorted back with a smirk. If he wanted to play a game, then I wasn't going to let him win.

"Ooh, I like it when you call me that," Louis smirked. "It's sexy."

"Alright, fuck off-"

"I'm sorry, it was too soon, you're right, Harry," Louis laughed. Despite my denial, I liked him. Stupid fucker.

His eyes crinkled when he smiled and his hair looked so soft, kind of like a feather, but one of those fluffy ones that you find when you-

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"I'm going."

"M'kay."

"Bye!"

Wait.

"Bye, Louis Tomlinson!"

"Bye, Harry... I don't know your last name, you prick."

"I know," I said with a smile. "Bye."

"Bye!" Louis said, with a smile. "Bye Harry Styles!"

"How the fuck do you-" the door slammed behind him, and I was alone in the front of the bakery. 

\------

Closing time was the worst fucking time of the day. Anyone who works at or for Ms. Collins would say the same thing. You see, cleaning the bakery was the most important thing to the old lady, and that means down your hands and knees- and not in the good way. 

"Harry, the stools need to be stacked up in the corner of-"

"Ms. Collins, respectively, I have been working here for more than three years alongside you. Despite your putting me at cash register today, I happen to be quite experienced in this field of being your employee."

Ms. Collins turned to me with her brows furrowed, "Stop being a little shit and stack the god damn stools, and maybe I'll put you back in the kitchen." She walked away, and I was left with a shitload of stools and Niall dying of laughter.

"She has no fucking chill, mate," Niall cackled, and came alongside me.

"Like aunt, like nephew."

"You met Ms. Collins's nephew today?" Niall asked as he grabbed a stool from the side of the counter.

"You could say that," I replied, and grabbed a stool. "Fucker is the one who we made the cake for, apparently he's some rich football player who owns the Manchester Rovers, or something like that-"

"Louis Tomlinson?"

"Am I the only one who doesn't know who this kid is?" I asked.

"Probably, mate," Niall retorted. He grabbed the stool in my hand and stacked them together. "The kid is mad rich or some shit, and he's fuckin' sick at football."

"Well he's an arse, honestly."

"Arse, maybe," Niall said, and grabbed another stool. "But he's an arse with a hot girlfriend. Lucky bastard has got Eleanor Calder wrapped around his rich finger."

A girlfriend. The fucker has a girlfriend.

"Arse."

"You liked him, didn't ya?"

"Fuck off, Leprechaun." I grabbed the stools at the counter, and one of them had a Post-It note on the seat. I grabbed it and stuffed it in my pocket.

Ms. Collins walked in a few minutes later, with her clipboard in her hand. "Harry, you're free to go, lad. You've got the Tuesday morning shift, so please don't sleep in again like last time." I made a face at her and went behind the counter and put my badge in the drawer.

"Niall, we on for tomorrow lunch?"

"Yeah, mate. Text me the address."

I bid the rest of the staff a good night, and the bell rang as I opened the door and headed down the street. It was only a few seconds after I walked out when I grabbed the now crumpled Post-It from my pocket. 

"my aunt has spoken about u before, in case u were wondering how I knew your name. come to the rovers game monday night and at the entrance say your name. don't ask so many questions. -louis xx"

The stupid fucker had me wrapped around his rich finger.


End file.
